


Display

by ashes0909, FestiveFerret



Series: Held [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bathroom Handie, Clubbing, Couch Conversation, M/M, Nylon, Public Display of Affection, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10118948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: His hands were all over him again, only this time in public.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve’s shirt snagged between them, nylon catching Tony’s crisp, white shirt. It had come from Tony’s closet and was two sizes too small. They almost couldn't leave the Tower, the way Tony kept kissing at his neck, biting at his skin, pushing him up against the bedroom door.

His hands were all over him again, only this time in public. 

The club was….friendly. 

All around him men and women were grinding, ignited under the lights and lasers. Next to them two men kissed, sloppy and full of tongue, and Steve couldn’t stop staring. At least until Tony put his hand down his pants, and pressed into the flesh. 

“Fuck.” Steve let his head fall forward and Tony’s shoulder shook with laughter. 

“Enjoying yourself?” His words tickled Steve’s ear and he was overwhelmed by the thigh between his legs. It should be illegal, indecent, to be this carnal in a room full of people. But it was everyone. The dancers next to him were all wrapped in their own pleasures. 

Tony’s tongue flicked his earlobe, “I want to watch you dance,” he said into the over-sensitive skin. “I want to see you, coming to one of the raunchiest clubs in Hell’s Kitchen all dressed up like you’re ready to be fucked. I want to see you move. I want to show you off.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and the reaction only made Tony’s grin spread, predatory. “Don’t be afraid to make friends.” Then he walked off the dancefloor. 

He didn’t move far, to a booth against the wall. Steve swayed his hips, tried to find the easy beat he had when he was in Tony’s arms. The music changed and he turned on the balls of his feet, eyes closing as he spun under the spotlights. 

From behind closed eyes, he imagined Tony watching him, remembered clever hands heating his skin and then he didn’t have to imagine anymore. A hand, delicate and female, scratched nails into his back. A body, smooth and heady, crowded into the space Tony once held. 

Over her shoulder he saw Tony. The light on the wall illuminated his face enough for Steve to see his heated eyes. 

“Care to dance?” The voice was husky, laced with intent. He remembered Tony’s comment about making friends. He slid his arm around the woman’s too-small waist, and followed Tony’s order.

He looked back towards the booth, and Steve tripped over his own feet. Tony smiled at a woman, his arm slung around her waist. She wore a waitress uniform, her head tossed back in laughter and Steve looked away. He tried to smile, be friendly to his dance partner, but his hips remained unsure and when the song ended she moved away.

He wasn’t alone long. “Your boyfriend leave?” A gruff voice, then all Steve could see was dark skin and muscular abs until he looked up to see interested eyes roaming across his body. “His loss.”

The man's hands moved everywhere, over Steve's shoulders and down his waist, even up to tousle his hair before he pulled Steve against him. He tried to look over the man’s shoulder, wanting to feel Tony’s gaze on him again but when he found the booth it was empty. 

The man’s hands slid into the back of Steve’s jeans and he mouthed at Steve’s neck-- Until another hand gripped his bicep, pulling them apart. 

Tony tugged him, no words exchanged, across the dancefloor and into the bathroom. He shoved him into a stall and up against the door. The wood snagged Steve’s shirt until Tony ripped it over his head to bite at his nipples. He thought fleetingly of the waitress but it was chased away by Tony’s ruthless teeth. “You’re such a slut. Letting everyone touch you. So fucking hot.” Tony’s mouth broke from his chest and ran up Steve’s neck until he moaned, hips rocking up into Tony’s. He remembered how it felt to dance, the woman’s frame wrapped around him, the man grabbing at his body. “Their hands all over you. Was he hard? I bet he was, how could he not be? Look at you.” Then he was kissing Steve and the onslaught of Tony’s words twisted in his head. 

He pictured Tony under the lights, beautiful people wrapped around him. The waitress was there, dancing with him like all the rest. Would they fall to their knees? Would she? Had others submitted as easily as Steve? Tony would command them so masterfully, like he always did. The thought of Tony dominating anyone caused a surge of arousal and the moans that fell from his mouth were both involuntary and forthright. “Fuck, Tony. Please, touch me.” 

A rough hand rubbed against his bulge, Tony unzipped his pants. Steve ached for him. “They got you all hot, huh?” he whispered against Steve’s ear. “Did you like me watching?” 

Steve nodded, head bumping against the wooden door. 

“Tell me.”

“Yes, Tony,” Steve gasped. “I loved you watching me. When you told me what to do, when you showed me off.  Just for you-” 

Tony broke off his words by taking them both in hand. “On the dance floor anyone can play with you, but you know who you belong to.” The hand around their cocks sped, and Steve was unable to focus beyond the filth dripping so beautifully from Tony’s mouth. “Steve,” Tony prompted, hand pulling along the head of Steve’s cock. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” Steve gasped and Tony hummed in agreement, and with another few flicks of his wrist they were both coming apart.

Tony pulled away first with a lazy smile and handed Steve his shirt. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him close so Tony could nuzzle into the soft skin. He was mumbling words that sounded like  _ Steve, Yes, Mine _ .

Steve thought of the dance floor, the waitress, of Tony knowing his way around the club. And he knew he was Tony’s, but he wondered if  _ Mine  _ went both ways. 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve frowned at the page, then tore it out and crumpled it into a ball. The stark white of a new sheet frowned back.

There was movement by the door and Tony sauntered in, grinning cockily when he saw Steve camped out on the couch.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, a familiar edge to his words.

Steve flicked his eyes up to Tony, then back to the page and his frown deepened. “I’m not in the mood, Tony.”

He caught a raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye. Tony dropped his stuff on the floor and made his way over, then wiggled into the tiny space on Steve’s right, jammed between his hip and the arm of the sofa. “Shove up.” 

A finger poked into Steve’s side and he sighed, but made space, eyeing the acres of room on his left that Tony had chosen to ignore. Tony leaned back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, and even in his heavy funk Steve still yearned to lean back into his hand.

“Not in the mood for what?” Tony teased.

“Don’t be an ass.” Steve pressed his pencil to the paper and unabashedly curved the line into the edge of Tony’s jaw, sketching in a rough mass of hair and an arched eyebrow.

Tony peered over his shoulder to get a better look. “Handsome.”

“He’s modest too.” Steve fussed with the ears while Tony chuckled.

The hand lifted off the sofa and slid up Steve’s back, rubbing firm fingers into the stiff muscles in his neck. A groan slipped out of Steve’s mouth, as he leaned into it.

“So what are you in the mood for?”

“Just thought I’d draw for a bit.” Steve knew his voice wasn’t as emotionless as he wanted and that Tony would pick up on it immediately.

Tony watched him in silence, as Steve shaped the eyes and nose then dropped his pencil down to curve around Tony’s lip. Out of the corner of his eye Steve saw Tony’s tongue dart out to trace along the edge of the real thing.

He leaned forward and breathed into Steve’s ear, “Well, I’m in the mood to suck you off.”

Steve’s pencil stilled, his grip creasing the paper. Tony waited, hovering by his ear, but not pushing. Steve imagined Tony’s hot mouth sliding around his cock and knew he was going to give in.

He tossed the sketchbook aside and turned to face Tony, challenging him with a look. Tony grinned in response and climbed up onto his knees. He pushed Steve flat on his back, stretched out along the couch, one foot propped up on the far arm, the other flat on the floor. Tony crawled up between his legs until he loomed over Steve’s prone form.

Steve ran a hand up Tony’s side, across his chest and over the arc reactor, a small smile threatening the scowl.

Tony made short work of Steve’s pants, pushing them down just far enough that he could pull his needy cock out of his boxers. He sucked him down immediately, taking him as deep as he could. Steve gasped, his foot braced against the arm of the couch, back arching up off the fabric.

Tony worked him relentlessly until he was a panting, twitching mess, so close he was sure he’d explode any minute. 

And then he stopped.

Steve’s hips stuttered forward, chasing the heat and wet as Tony pulled away, but he put a firm hand on Steve’s stomach, holding him flat.

“What’s bothering you?”

“What?” Steve choked out, eyes fixed on Tony’s mouth.

“You’ve been unhappy since last night, what’s wrong?” Tony waited until Steve’s eyes focused on his own. “Steve, if you don’t tell me what went wrong, I can’t protect you from it happening again.”

The thought of Tony taking care to protect Steve from being hurt sent a warm tingle from his toes up the back of his neck, but his mind just wouldn’t stop supplying images of Tony and the waitress from the club, of Tony with another lover at his feet.

“I -” Tony rubbed an encouraging hand up Steve’s thigh. “It’s not a big deal. I just - The waitress. Did you...would you have taken her home, if I hadn’t been there?”

Tony considered Steve for a long time, until the relentless gaze made him flush and squirm.

“Why?” Tony finally asked.

Steve shifted up into a sitting position, voice barely a whisper, blush threatening to ignite his hairline. “I guess- I realized I don’t really like the idea of you doing this with other people.”

Tony smiled. “Well, well, Captain America, are you asking me to go steady?”

Steve burned with embarrassment, tipping his head down and willing the couch to swallow him whole.

Tony tucked two fingers under Steve’s chin and raised it until he met his eyes. His teasing smile faded, replaced with something serious and honest. “Hey now. It’s okay to ask for things you want, you know.” Tony pressed his forehead against Steve’s. “I want you, not her. You’re mine, I’m yours. You okay?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. Tony’s hands wandered back down towards his hips. “Yes. I’m yours. And I want you to be mine, too.”

Tony flashed him a brilliant smile. “I mean, that’s not to say I can’t think of some truly delicious things we could do with a friend. But, yeah. I’m yours.”

The carnal pleasure of their dance last night flooded back into Steve’s mind, the memory no longer marred by anxiety, and the erection that had faded somewhat came back, full force. Tony gave him a predatory look and pushed him flat again. “Now, are you going to keep sulking? Or are you going to come when I tell you to?”

Steve bit his lip and pressed back into the cushions, toes curling in anticipation. “I’m going to do whatever you want me to, Tony.”

“Good.”


End file.
